


The Tattoo

by anemptymargin



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alcohol, College, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken weekend leads to a permanent mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place way back in college. (LJ) denofiniquity started it. A short ficlet based on a comment that struck me as rather cracky, this isn't nearly as much of a crackfic as I thought it would turn out to be, oddly enough. No beta, written in about an hour to get rid of the plot bunny in hopes that it doesn't breed.

His whole body throbbed to the strobe of the sunlight passing through the slats in mini-blinds that had seen better days. His head ached. His mouth tasted like he'd been manning the glory hole of a York Peppermint Patty nightclub. "Fuck, what time is it?" Matt groaned against something that felt vaguely like a pillow.

Trey shifted behind him, pulling his arms tighter around Matt's thin waist before muttering; "I don't even know what year it is… fuck my ass hurts."

"I told you that was a sucker bet, no mere mortal can take the man rammer." Matt stretched his legs, relaxing as best he could given the spikes being driven into his brain.

"It had Ron Jeremy on the box. If you can't trust Ron Jeremy, who can you trust? Besides, if I didn't just dream the last ten hours I took the whole fucking thing." Trey laughed slightly, following it with a low groan. "But fuck, not that kind of hurt."

"Mmm, poor baby butthurt." Matt grumbled again, rolling onto his back with a grimace and covering his eyes with both hands. "I'm never drinking grasshoppers again."

"Seriously dude, you were pouring."

"Fuck you."

Trey sneered, opening his eyes to realize he hadn't even been seen. Thankfully, his hangover was lifting as he began to come to life. "I'll get the aspirin and alka-seltzer." He gently patted Matt's chest and pushed up out of the bed, not even bothering to dig out his boxers. If there was anyone stupid enough to crash at their shitty apartment they deserved the sight of his ass first thing in the morning.

Matt groaned unintelligibly as he stepped out of the bedroom, he ignored it and stumbled towards the kitchen still half asleep. As he passed through the tiny living room, he noticed the open carton of chocolate milk and empty bottle of peppermint schnapps before he even heard Dian's low groan from the sofa.

"Shit man, put some pants on." Dian groaned louder, lifting his arm off his eyes clearly just waking up.

"Sorry, just getting some water - Matt's pretty hung over." Trey shrugged, wiggling his hips. "Besides, my ass hurts - I think I sat on something."

"I'll say… I can't believe you took the man rammer…"

Trey paused, "Fuck, you were there?"

Dian laughed low in his throat, rolling onto his side. "Dude - I fucking dared you. I owe you thirty bucks."

"Oh. Right." Trey shook his head, continuing on his short trip to the sink.

"Dude, were you really that fucked up? I mean, you only took half a tab at the tattoo parlor…"

"Tattoo parlor? There was a tattoo parlor?"

"You don't remember the tattoo?" Dian snorted. "Fucked up shit, man."

"Fuck, I got a tattoo?"

"Yeah, on your ass. Its great… like fucking poetry."

Well, at least that was one mystery solved. Trey shook his head and found a clean plastic cup and the fizzy stuff. "On a scale of, say… one to five, just how bad is it?"

"For you?"

"Yes fucking for me." Trey groaned, dropping in the tablets and giving the cup a few swirls.

"On the off chance that you may someday fuck someone that isn't Matt… probably a 5. Unless their name is also Matt."

"Fuck." Trey closed his eyes, sat down the elixir and slammed his face against the nearest wall.

"Hey, don't look at me - I told you 'Ass Master' was a better choice but you insisted. Said Matt would be all impressed and shit."

"He doesn't know about the tattoo?" Trey looked up, quirking an eyebrow. "Fuck, I can't believe I don't remember any of this…"

"You were flying pretty high, brother."

"But still, a tattoo?"

"You got a tattoo?" Matt stumbled out in his robe and boxers, somehow managing to run his fingers through his nappy fro - tugging out a small tangle in the process.

"At least somebody has the decency not to walk around with their cock hanging out…" Dian muttered, sitting up on the sagging sofa.

"Dude, let me see." Matt grinned, taking the oversized cup and downing the fizz with a pair of aspirin.

Trey rolled his eyes, it wasn't like he wouldn't see it every day anyway. Even if they weren't three guys in a small apartment, they ended up spending more time with their ass hanging out than people would like to think. "I was fucked up at the time, I don't even remember a tattoo parlor."

Matt lowered the cup, spitting out the last dregs of grit and water as he barely contained a gut busting laugh. "Oh god…" He grinned wider, finally letting it out a loud guffawing laugh, "Oh fuck that's priceless…"

"Ha. Hah." Trey groaned, "Go ahead, laugh at my stupidity now…"

"Okay." Matt snickered.

"Seriously, dude. It's not that bad…" Dian snorted, forcing back another laugh.

"It's not?" Trey looked up, almost hopeful the whole thing was some sort of prank. Almost.

"Yeah…" Matt stifled the laughter, "Just… I mean, the sort of freaky chicks that would fuck you totally wouldn't mind…"

"Get the fucking Polaroid." Trey spat, shooting Dian a deadly look. "I swear I'm going to kill you for this."

Matt moved far too quickly for someone who had finished off an entire fifth of schnapps and chocolate milk, snatching his Polaroid camera off the table where it sat on a stack of "proof" from the bet the night before. "Flash that ass…"

"Shut up, Matt." Trey did as he was told, turning his back to the camera and bending over slightly, feeling the all too familiar deep ache that usually accompanied a particularly rough fucking almost as acutely as the sting of the fresh tattoo. "Take the fucking picture."

Click. Whizz. Matt shook out the picture as Trey retreated to the relative sanity of the bedroom they'd ended up sharing out of necessity well before the fucking started and flopped out on the small bed. "Seriously, it's cute… I mean, in that sort of thing you did while really fucked up kind of way…" Matt followed him, still shaking the exposure.

"Just show me the picture."

***

Almost fifteen years, several relationships, and a whole lifetime had gone by. Turns out Matt had been right, most of the chicks had understood… sure, a couple thought it was pretty fucked up he hadn't gotten rid of it once the money for laser removal wasn't an issue, but they seemed to understand the sentimental value. Fuck, sentimental value.

Bent over a drafting table, fixing a storyboard for the latest episode with a pen in one hand and the script in the other, Trey doesn't even look up when the door opens. Only one person stayed behind no matter how late the nights went and how many times everyone claimed Trey only stayed late to get away from his wife.

"You should get out of here, its late." Matt crosses the room slowly, approaching his best friend from behind with a warm embrace. "Emma's gonna be pissed."

"I'm almost done." Trey mutters, scribbling a wall. "I just want to finish this panel."

"Come on, dude. It'll still be there in eight hours."

"Just a sec."

Matt's long fingers wrap around his wrist - managing to stop the pen as the opposite hand traced over the soft denim stretched over Trey's ass cheek. "I told you, it's time to go."

"Yeah, and I said when I'm done." Trey looks over his shoulder earnestly, "I'll see you in the morning."

Matt slides his hand into the frayed back pocket, cupping the familiar flesh underneath. "Do I need to remind you."

Trey freezes, the memory striking him for the first time in… fuck, years. "Matt, come on… you can't seriously…"

"Say it." Matt digs his fingertips into the exact spot of the now faded ink. Over time things had changed, but it was the one thing that stayed the same.

"Forever." Trey closes his eyes, realizing Matt is pushing in even closer and suddenly feeling like the comfortable old jeans were getting just a little too tight.

"Forever." Matt echoes.

Trey swallows hard and whispers, "Property of Matt Stone."

"Don't fucking forget it."

***End***

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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